Sunshine Boy
by Ichigo2491
Summary: When they were small, Molly Weasley had called them her sunshine boys because their little jokes brought sunshine into her life." In the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat, George Weasley struggles to cope with Fred's loss. Oneshot. T for language


**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, J.K. Rowling does. **

**Post Deathly Hallows **

**Sunshine Boy **

In the weeks after Fred Weasley's death, George Weasley realized that he had been cut in half.

All his life had been a shared existence. He and Fred had shared everything… clothes, toys, food, their ambition to own a joke shop… and now, George was tossed into an existence where suddenly, everything was his. He and Fred had decided a long time ago that if one of them was killed, the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes would go to the other. But George had never expected it would come to that.

Not that he had underestimated the danger – it had simply never occurred to him that either of them could possibly be killed. He had been bracing himself for the deaths of other family members… mostly Ron. It just seemed logical… Fred and George had evaded expulsion throughout their years of troublemaking at Hogwarts. They were definitely lucky, and George had thought, surely, that luck would last them through the war.

They had been a package deal. Their names were never spoken in separate sentences. When they were small, Molly Weasley had called them her sunshine boys because their little jokes brought sunshine into her life.

It was hard to understand that there were only five sons in the Weasley family anymore. It was hard to accept that he and Fred would never play another prank together.

Every time he looked in the mirror, George experienced a shock. He had never realized how identical he and his twin were until Fred was no longer there to compare to. Sometimes he thought he _was_ Fred, and realized that he would have answered to either name… if anyone had been speaking Fred's. But it seemed to have become Taboo. The Weasleys had lost one son and regained another, and they tiptoed around each other for fear of breaking each other down.

Percy, George noticed, seemed to have a hard time looking any of his family in the face. He couldn't even speak to George. Ginny told him it was because Percy felt responsible for Fred's death, and knew that it was affecting George the worst. And it was. George had not told a joke or cracked a smile in weeks. It felt blasphemous.

It all exploded at dinner one night. Mrs. Weasley said softy, as though afraid she might damage him if she spoke in a normal tone of voice, "George, dear, please pass the stew," and George, forgetting entirely that he no longer had a twin with whom to play this joke, said disgustedly,

"Are you mental, Mum? I'm not George, I'm _Fred_."

Mrs. Weasley paled and gasped, tears springing to her eyes. Ron jerked upright in his seat. Hermione gave a little squeal and slapped a hand over her mouth. Ginny blinked determinedly, but you could see the tears glittering in her eyes nonetheless. Harry gave a strangled sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. Percy's lip trembled almost imperceptibly and he quickly put his head down on his arms on the table. His shoulders shook slightly. Mr. Weasley was eyeing all of them with an expression akin to disgust.

Molly Weasley was still staring at George as though he really was Fred, and he was sitting dead before her. In that moment, George actually felt dead. He had the creepy feeling that he was really Fred, had been Fred all along, and George was the one who was really dead.

The varied expressions of shock and grief ranging over their faces caused color to flood into George's face. He had opened the wound that hadn't even begun to heal yet.

"Sorry," he muttered, looking down into his plate. "I forgot."

There was a long silence. Then, "No, George. Don't apologize."

Everyone focused their stunned attention on Arthur Weasley, who was standing up at his place, his eyes behind his glasses staring fiercely out at them.

"Goddammit!" he bellowed, slamming his fist into the table. All of them jumped, except George, who was still dead.

Mr. Weasley had bent his head, and when he lifted to his gaze to them his eyes were blazing and full of tears. "My son," he choked out, "Fred… was a hero. He died like a hero, and here we all are, refusing to talk about him, flinching every time we hear his name…"

Ginny was crying quite openly now, her head on a solemn Harry's shoulder. Harry was looking at Mr. Weasley with a new respect. Hermione had her face in her hands and was peering at Mr. Weasley from between her fingers. Percy was shaking worse than ever, and this time they could all hear the muffled sobs coming from his bowed head. Ron was seemingly unmindful of the single tear running down his own freckled cheek; he seemed to be trying to decide which of them to comfort. Eventually he wrapped an arm around Hermione, then reached out with his other hand and awkwardly patted Percy on the back. It was the first gesture of comfort anyone had made to Percy, and only seemed to increase the outpouring of his grief.

Molly, meanwhile, was staring at her husband, her face pale, her hands shaking. Arthur went on, unmindful of their reactions, "Is this what Fred would have wanted us to be doing? Sitting around moping and trying to pretend there was nothing wrong when really, we're all about to die too? Do you think Fred would have liked being in this house when it was like this? Well, I don't. Fred died as he lived… laughing! He would have wanted us to live laughing, too! Fred lived to make other people happy; I think that the way we're living is an insult to his memory."

George felt nothing. It was hard to feel when you were dead. Arthur Weasley stared blazingly at all of them, as though daring them to contradict him. There was silence, and Arthur sank slowly into his seat and buried his face in his hands. Molly flung her arms around him and pressed her face against his shoulder. "You're right," she said brokenly. "You're right, Arthur." He touched her hair.

Harry cleared his throat and raised his cup of pumpkin juice. At this cue, all the others sat up abruptly, sniffing back their emotions, and raised their own cups. "To Fred Weasley," said Harry in a thick voice, "the hero who died laughing."

"Fred," everyone echoed, and drank. George felt the liquid splash down his throat, but barely tasted it.

In the weeks after that fateful dinner, George Weasley realized that he was still a sunshine boy. But he would have to shine on alone.

_Fin _

**Reviews appreciated, as always. **


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